Page 46 of Breakaway Goal

They stroll up right behind us in line. Rhys slinks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks back on his heels. “What a coincidence,” he says.

“You’re seeing the movie, too?” I ask, trying to ignore what his sudden presence is doing to the muscles low in my core and between my legs. I shouldn’t be feeling hot and bothered by Rhys when I’m on a date with another guy.

“Yeah,” he answers, casual as can be. “I saw thatBefore Sunrisewas playing. Thought it would be cool to see it after hearing so much about it.”

Disappointment sticks in my chest. I’ve talked to him about wanting to watch this movie before. He saw it was playing, but wanted to see it on a date with another girl, not with me?

“Oh. Cool,” is all I can summon for an answer.

“I’m Amelia,” the girl he’s with says, throwing a quick wave at us. She’s introducing herself to be polite, but I get the sense that she’s not exactly happy that her date’s attention is suddenly on someone other than her. I nod and smile, introducing myself, too.

Rhys’s gaze slices to James. His expression seems to tighten, his brow lowering over his eyes. “Hey. Rhys.” He extends his hand.

“I’m James.” When James slides his hand into Rhys’s, I can tell from the way Rhys’s thick forearm muscles tense that he’s squeezing hard. James grimaces, shaking off his hand when Rhys finally relinquishes his grip.

The side of Rhys’s mouth ticks smugly. James flashes me a quick glance that seems to say,what’s his deal? Awkwardness settles over the four of us.

“Well, I hope you two enjoy the movie,” I say to Rhys and his date, noticing the expression of impatience start to show on Amelia’s face.

Honestly, I get it, considering Rhys hasn’t even looked at her, much less talked to her, since I’ve seen them.

I turn around and step forward as the line starts to move, hoping to create some distance between our two pairs. Being on my first date is nerve-wracking enough; having Rhys Callahan as a spectator for it only makes it that much worse.

When James and I get our tickets, I walk toward the auditorium at a quicker-than-normal pace. Once we’re in our seats and Rhys and his date are somewhere on the other side of the room in theirs, I’ll feel more at ease.

The previews haven’t started yet, and the overhead lights are still on, so the audience is still buzzing with chatter as James and I take our seats. I try to forget about Rhys and the beautiful girl he’s with and settle back into my conversation withmydate.

I’m not able to forget about Rhys for long, though. Because he lowers himself into the seat right next to me.

Sparks skitter over my skin when his arm brushes against mine. But instead of the usual giddy tension that settles in my stomach when I’m sitting next to him, this time it’s annoyance that rises to my chest.

Is he doing this on purpose? Does he not trust me to handle myself on a date, even though I’m twenty years old and already living on my own?

His date clearly isn’t happy, either. She’s still standing next to him.

“Uh, here?” she questions, tilting an eyebrow.

“Yeah, here,” he answers, his voice strangely tight. “These seats have the best view.”

Frustration clouds her expression for a minute, but she shakes her head and sits with a muttered, “Whatever.”

These seats don’t have anything close to the best view. In fact, I intentionally guided James to kind of crappy seats because I assumed at least that way, Rhys and Amelia wouldn’t end up anywhere close to us.

I try to tune them out. I ask James about what some of his favorite and least favorite art classes were last year.

“I really liked the portraiture class I took,” he answers. “I’d never delved into portrait drawing before, so I learned a lot.”

“Oh, that’s really cool,” I answer. “I’ve never been good at detailed drawings of people. It’s one of my weaknesses I’m really hoping to work on with some classes.”

“What do you mean?” Rhys suddenly, brazenly butts in, turning from his own date and leaning over the armrest between us. “Don’t you remember that painting you made of the team in our gear last year? It was incredible.”

A knot of embarrassment tightens in my stomach. I don’t even know what to say to Rhys intruding in the middle of a conversation with my date like that.

As if his comment weren’t embarrassing enough, Rhys takes out his phone. “Look,” he says. He leans past me to show James the painting he was just talking about.

The set of Rhys’s brow is low and hard, and there’s a strange accusatory gleam in his eyes beaming right at James. The unpleasant knot in my stomach expands.

“Uh, yeah,” James reacts, clearly baffled and caught off guard, “it’s a good painting.”

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